Claire did not resent her brother when she died. If Jack had known this, they may have been closer; but he regarded himself as a poor protector and a worse provider, the kind of thing reflected in whisky and long, sleepless nights lining up bodies by floodlight and response team lantern in the dust of collapsed ceilings and broken linoleum tile. If only they had a way to tell that these things were about to happen before they did…

But that isn't Jack's story to tell, either, and it matters little now.